With apologies to Idris Davies (1905-1953)

Let’s go to Barry Island, Malcy bach,
And treat ourselves to one day by the sea
And sweet air and brine and splashing waves
And a roving roam on the grassy cliffs;
We’ll have beers on the sands and ice creams on the front
And sit in the summer breeze with the retired and jobless,
Clutching their smart-phones and chucking their scratch-cards
While the sun disappears behind a bank of clouds.
Come on, Malcy bach, or the chance will be gone,
Then we’ll fester at home in Splott yet again,
Depressed by dirt and deprivation.
Leave the telly alone for today, Malcy bach,
And put on your shorts and come out to the beach,
And down to the sighing grey sea.
We’ll carry the sandwiches in a big rucksack
And leave our troubles behind for a day,
With the racists and the xenophobes
And the ignoramuses, creating sheer hell.
Come, Malcy bach, with your rose-tinted heart
And a proud Welsh tune on your Rhondda lips,
And we’ll crack jokes together on the Dinas road
Down to the sad Severn sea.